the greeks iv. dionysus

have you tasted wine so sweet
               as one of sun-kissed grapes?
                        the revelry that flourishes under my hand
                     we drink deep in thanks every twilight,
      and come morn, we lie grateful in the dirt,
            the smallest of fires burning inside with pleasure;
                                             the moon never taught me so much about your body before
                   I must give thanks for the stupor you have put me in
             your laurel crown of plenty has smoothed my features
                         a river of plying kisses and softened beds,

                   you would never guess olympia was ruled by immortals,
                            the way we savour mankind.


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